This violin was made in 1899 in Strasbourg, but in some ways it could be considered English.

The maker, Georges Fillion, was born in France (in 1869) and was initially trained in Mirecourt. He then worked briefly in Switzerland and Paris, but most importantly London, for the firm of W.E. Hill & Sons.

The beautiful Hill instruments dating from just before the end of the 19th century were made by French-trained luthiers: Charles Langonet, Joseph Maurice Somny and Georges Fillion seem to have been the best of them. There was a golden period around 1895 when all three were in the same workshop. However there were other Frenchmen too: Delunet, Marchand, Frelainet and Jenin . . . that’s seven Mirecourt-trained luthiers working for the British company.

The Hills pursued excellence in their restorations and their products, and Fillion was very proud of having worked for them. He left the Hills in 1896, settling in Strasbourg. However some of his violins were clearly aimed at the British market and were sold in London. The labels of these are in English and bear the words “Scholar of W. Hill & Sons”.

The label of this particular violin tells us this is No 58, dating from 1899. It is also inscribed 1er Qt, meaning first quality. He only did this if he thought it deserved it. The later example illustrated in Réne Vannes’ Dictionnaire is inscribed 2nd Q.

This violin is unmistakably Irish. It’s very like an instrument by Thomas Perry of Dublin, or of his cousin James Perry of Kilkenny. It’s unpurfled, and broadly similar to much English work of the late 18th century, except internally it has the tiny corner blocks usual in Irish violins, and externally the soundholes are very distinctive: the bottoms look too large for the tops.

The decoration, however, is different. Apart from the scrolling foliage around the edges it has good signwriting on the ribs: Ni regret du passé ni peur de lavenir. Also, within a cartouche under the tailpiece is the legend Au Diable la Tristesse. Gung-ho stuff.

It’s tempting to think that this violin might have belonged to an officer in Napoleon’s army. In the 1790’s there was a considerable effort by the French to liase with the Irish to join them in a war with England. After a failed effort in 1796, the French successfully landed around 2,000 men in August 1798 in County Mayo in the north west. Joined by 5,000 locals they quickly defeated the English at Castlebar and set up a short-lived “Republic of Connacht”, only to be defeated in turn within a month. The French prisoners were swapped for returning British prisoners of war, but the Irish officers were hanged.

The back is painted neatly with the initials JWJ. There were seventeen Napoleonic generals with the initials JJ, where the middle initial is unknown, and one with the initials painted on the back of this violin: JWJ. There must have been correspondingly more colonels, majors and lower ranks. W is an unusual initial for a Frenchman, although not impossible, but quite common for a Belgian.

]]>Cello by Thomas Kennedyhttp://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=419
Tue, 01 Jul 2014 11:20:50 +0000http://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=419Here’s a lovely cello by Thomas Kennedy. It dates from 1820, and, as well as having its proper label, it has Kennedy’s handwritten and dated inscription both underneath the front and inside the back Now, there are lots of cellos by this maker, so what’s special about this one? Its condition.

The table has a small, repaired soundpost crack – well of course it does – and other unimportant shrinkage cracks here and there. The photo of the underside of the table shows their extent: I don’t think you can see them from the outside.

But now . . . the back has no cracks at all. The ribs have no cracks at all. The head has no damage at all. The pegbox is unusually clean, and the pegholes have not been rebushed. The neck and pegs, by the way, are original. The table has not had any re-edging, or half-edging, anywhere. The varnish is untouched, and almost completely unworn. It has a very slight craquelure, but that just goes to show it’s correct. It has its original label: Thos. Kennedy, Maker, 364, Oxford Street, London, and also the original inked inscription, by the end-pin, is perfectly legible.

There’s nothing wrong with the size: the body is 763mm (30 1/16in. in old measurements) and the widths are 341mm, 239mm and 442mm. The string length is 692mm. It’s probably as perfect a specimen as can be found anywhere.

]]>Baroque!http://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=415
Wed, 04 Dec 2013 10:06:00 +0000http://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=415This blog is simply a link to an advert of mine that will appear in the Galpin Society Journal next year. It’s self-explanatory.

]]>A Surprising Cellohttp://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=407
Sun, 27 Oct 2013 17:39:28 +0000http://www.aviolin.com/blog/?p=407In the spring, I and a friend purchased, at auction, a cello catalogued as by Thomas Dodd. It looked awful, being filthy and having a thick coating of varnish that had become very crazed with age. Before the auction it was downgraded to school of Dodd.

But I just loved it. Under the grime was a really classy cello in remarkably pure condition. We paid over double the top estimate. After the sale, when it had been paid for, I asked the auctioneers to put me in touch with the previous owner: after all, there’s no point in maintaining secrecy about these matters when the deal has been done. I thought that such a fine cello simply must have a story behind it. Sure enough, in due course, the original owner gave me the 1923 Hill certificate that they hadn’t considered important.